Former Goalkeeper Omer Catkic Was Arrested For Possessing the Same App as Mr. San. Image Courtesy Of: http://www.diken.com.tr/darbe-girisimi-macka-ilce-jandarma-komutani-tegmene-gozalti/

An MP from the ruling Justice and Development party (AKP), Metin Kulunk, questioned the decision to release Mr. San and asked the rhetorical question “Is there someone protecting this person [Mr San]?”. Indeed, it is a good question since—on the same day—former goalkeeper Omer Catkic was arrested for having the same “Bylock” app on his phone as Mr. San! Mr. Kulunk went on to say that the state needs to get tougher on FETO’s organization in Turkish football and that “football’s intestines must be cleaned”. (Here FETO refers to the Fethullah Terrorist Organization, a loose group of the followers of Islamic cleric Fethullah Gulen who is blamed for masterminding last summer’s failed coup attempt). Regardless of whether or not Mr. San is guilty, the double standard in use here is unmistakable. Since Konyaspor have reached unprecedented heights—experiencing the most successful period in the club’s history—due to investors with ties to “green capital” (businesses connected to the conservative community), it is clear that the Turkish state does not want to alienate too many of their supporters. It will be interesting the follow the fall out from this latest development but, in the meantime, I will share some new from the lighter side of football.

22 August 2017 was also the first round of the Ziraat Turkish cup, the national cup competition that brings together teams from all corners of Turkey. Since the first round is played by teams from provinces that are not represented in the top four (professional) leagues, this is grassroots football at its best. Turkish television showed five of the matches live, and it was a good way for fans to appreciate Turkey’s geographic diversity. Even if fans couldn’t go in person, they could see the different scenery ranging from the Central Anatolian steppe behind MKE Kirikkalespor’s stadium to the majestic peak of Mount Ararat rising behind Igdirspor’s stadium in Turkey’s easternmost province. The Aegean hinterland was represented by the derby between Kutahyaspor and Tavsanli Linyitspor, while the black sea could be seen behind the stand of Sinopspor’s stadium (even if it was blocked by one gentleman’s head in the broadcast).

Twitter users laughed at the small idiosyncrasies of small town football—like the post which blocked the view of television cameras in Sinop’s stadium, the weight of some of the amateur players, or the policeman who wandered onto the pitch seemingly oblivious to the match being played. As one Twitter user said, “if there is a better sports organization than this one, please tell us”. In response to the poor policeman’s embarrassing gaffe, an editor of an online news aggregator penned the headline “I cannot watch a match in another country!”. While the football may not have been great, these small moments from the first round of the Ziraat Turkish Cup gave Turkish fans something to laugh about and that is something to be celebrated during these troubling times. Football can unite just as it can divide, and in this case the Ziraat Turkish Cup allows fans to appreciate all parts of Turkish life regardless of what region of Turkey they may live in. I share with you some of the best moments from the first round and congratulate all the teams that have moved onto the second round!

Supporters of Atiker Konyaspor, the main team from Turkey’s central Anatolian province of Konya, chanted slogans accusing Besiktas and its fans of links to the Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK), which has waged a three-decade insurgency against the state. Fans of Besiktas, an Istanbul side whose supporters include a vocal leftist element, responded with a song popular among secular Turks, aimed at the rival fans from Turkey’s conservative heartland. The two groups rushed onto the field and fought after the final whistle.

That Besiktas’s fans should be accused of being terrorists is absurd, but so is the conservative fans’ revulsion to Besiktas’s fans singing the Izmir Marsi seeing as how it is…a nationalist song (for video, please click here). Is not Konya part of Turkey? Apparently, the divisions sown by the AKP run deep.

Despite what seems to have been complete chaos, it is amusing that there was one thing that was not allowed in the stadium: A banner reading Yasa Mustafa Kemal Pasa Yasa (Long Live Mustafa Kemal Pasa), supporting the founding father of the Turkish Republic Mustafa Kemal Ataturk. Although this is absurd—and very surprising, considering what was allowed inside the stadium—it is part of the consolidation of a new hegemony in Turkish society, one that aims to roll back the traditions of the secular Turkish state both politically and—more importantly—culturally; this is why sports has become such a battle ground in the culture wars.

Fikret Orman, President of the Besiktas club, defended the authorities decision to not allow the pro-Ataturk banner, saying “Stada gelen insanlar, siyasi slogan atmaya değil, yıldızları izlemeye geliyor. Siyaset yapmak isteyen, partilere gidebilir (People come to the stadium not to yell political slogans but to watch the stars. Those who want to do politics can go to the [political] parties),” but he did not acknowledge the absurdity of allowing a knife—and not a banner—into a stadium. After all, is Mustafa Kemal Ataturk as the founding father of the Turkish Republic, not beyond politics for those who believe in Turkish civic (I remind you, not ethnic) nationalism? It is not when the matter at hand is cementing a new kind of hegemony. Besiktas, as one of Turkish football’s traditional powers representing the eponymous liberal district of Istanbul, is the antithesis of what their opponents on the night, Konyaspor, represent. Konya is Turkey’s most conservative province, located deep in the country’s Central Anatolian heartland. The team is backed by the “green capital” of Islamic businessmen who have prospered during the past 15 years of AKP rule, and their goal is to challenge the existing status quo in Turkish football.

And now Basaksehirspor will face Sevilla in a bid to further their challenge to Turkish football’s traditional powers. Even the team’s Tweets reflect the crude nature of Turkey’s new ruling class. After besting Club Brugge in the previous round of Champions League qualifiers, the team asked Sevilla “Don’t you want to win the Europa League once again Sevilla FC?” [Author’s Note: The team that loses the final qualifying round tie for the Champions League earns a spot in UEFA’s second tier competition, the Europa League]. Sevilla FC responded to Basaksehir’s jab brilliantly with “Thanks, but we have a lot of them …. Better the first one for you”. For a team with minimal European experience (eight matches in total), Basaksehir’s gall can only be classified as classless but that is sadly the manner of behavior that has become de rigeur in Turkey these days (please recall a post I wrote criticizing Turkish Airlines’ claim that their airport lounge in Istanbul is bigger than some airports).

After discussing the recent 2017 IAAF World Track and Field Championships held in London with a friend, I was struck just how clearly the sports world shows that globalization is imperialism with a friendlier face. Just as Michel Foucault argues in Discipline and Punish, changing forms of punishment—from violent torture to confinement in modern prison systems—made punishment less barbaric while simultaneously further legitimizing it, globalization makes imperialism more palatable to the “modern” mind. Exploitation of the global south by the global north, and poorer countries by richer countries, continues unabated in the globalist world.

expanded the scope of discipline and legitimized it. It turned the individual into a “case,” which simultaneously helped to explain his actions and to control them. The very concept of the individual as a case represented a “thaw” that liberated scientific knowledge (to think of the patient as a case was the beginning of medical innovation), and at the same time expanded institutional means of control (for example, the right of the hospital to confine the mentally ill). Thus, a case approach “at one and the same time constitutes an object for a branch of knowledge and a hold for a branch of power.”

In the instance of the prison, this case orientation encouraged the expansion of knowledge in such disciplines as criminology, psychology and eventually psychiatry. Concomitantly, it legitimized incarceration in the name of treatment. Since the institution could cure, it was proper to confine.

With the advent of modern prison systems punishment was refined and, in the process, became more pervasive. This is no different than the evolution of international power structures from those represented by imperialism and colonialism in the past and those created by globalization in the present.

Emin Colasan, a Turkish columnist, wrote an article on 12 August 2017 regarding “Devsirme” Turkish athletes. The term itself is from Ottoman history, once used to refer to the Janissary Corps, but now used to refer to naturalized foreigners, particularly in sports. Mr. Colasan notes that Turkey’s two medalists in the recent IAAF Track and Field Championships were not in fact Turkish at all: Cuban Yasmani Copello won a silver medal in the 400 meter hurdles while Azeri Ramil Guliev won gold in an upset victory in the 200 meter event. While this is of course an unbelievable achievement for these two athletes (as a former track and field athlete myself, I know the hard work the sport requires), it would be wrong to characterize it as an achievement for Turkish sport itself since these athletes were not products of Turkish sporting infrastructure. Mr. Colasan provides another example in the Turkish National Women’s Basketball Team, where Americans like Quanitra Hollingsworth represent Turkey in international competitions. For Hollingsworth it is a “business arrangement” (https://aroundthehorns.wordpress.com/2012/05/10/quanitra-hollingsworth-turkish-citizen-olympian/ that will ultimately help her career—but it won’t help the careers of native Turkish basketball players who may hope to one day represent their country.

The importing of foreign sports stars is something that Qatar, among other oil rich gulf states, is notorious for. Deutsche Welle, writing about Qatar’s 2015 success in handball, notes that only four of Qatari team was actually from Qatar. The team made up of players from Bosnia, Montenegro, Serbia, France, Spain, and Cuba “had been enticed to play for the Gulf state thanks to six figure winning bonuses. They were also guaranteed a life long pension, if the team reached the semifinals”. Deutsche Welle offers a thinly veiled defense of Qatari actions, calling it true globalization and further justifying it by comparing it to the actions of major European football clubs:

Qatar’s approach in this instance is no different to the way that big European football clubs operate. They search for talent worldwide, then sign them up and then train them. It’s just that Qatar’s sheikhs are doing it at the national team level, not for a club.

Some people might find it immoral, and maybe it is. But in high-level professional sport, where lots of money is involved and success is the most important currency, the approach is pretty common.

Again, it is the importance of “money” that drives Qatar’s—and Turkey’s—desire to obtain foreign athletes. Unfortunately, it is the kind of short-sighted policy that defines the actions of globalist leaders the world over. Rather than develop their own sporting cultures and infrastructure countries are trying to buy success; rather than develop indigenous technologies and businesses countries would rather privatize existing state run industries and import from multinational corporations. Such policies do little to encourage long term home-grown economic growth and the profits stream out of developing countries to the home-countries of multinational corporations based in the developed world.

What Deutsche Welle also misses—by comparing Qatar’s actions to those of “the big European football clubs”—is that the actions of those clubs is also imperialism disguised as globalization; footballers are imported to Europe from poorer countries in Latin America and Africa in a modern day exploitation of the global South in sports. The results have not been great for Latin American clubs, as a courser look at the history of the FIFA World Club Championship (later FIFA Club World Cup) shows: While the competition was roughly equal in the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s (South America won 6 championships to Europe’s 4 from 1960-69 while Europe won 7 championships to South America’s 11 from 1970 to 1989) the advent of globalization changed the balance from 1990 onward. From 1990 to 2004 Europe won 10 championships to South America’s 5 and after the start of the FIFA Club World Cup in 2004 South America has won just 3 competitions to Europe’s 9 (the last time a South American participant won was 2012). Because of the globalization of sport poorer countries have no incentive to develop sporting infrastructure. South American and African clubs will sell young players off (the raw materials of world football) at cheap prices for them to be refined at major European clubs; countries like Turkey and Qatar will just buy sporting success in lieu of developing their sporting infrastructure. In this respect human beings become commodified; both processes are similarly short cited and create a vicious cycle in terms of both sporting and economic development.

Perhaps the most obvious manifestation of imperialism and sports can be found by looking at the make up of international football teams. The French national side of the 1980s (immediately following decolonization) was mainly a European team. The team that represented France at the 2016 European Championships was mainly an African team, the results of years of French Colonialism. Belgium is no different, and King Leopold’s horrific actions in the Belgian Congo will not be erased by Vincent Kompany’s success on the pitch representing Belgium any more than French domination of Algeria was erased by Zinedine Zidane’s brilliance. That European countries still reap the benefits of colonialism is shocking; that European neo-colonialism—under the guise of sporting globalization—continues unabated is disappointing.

As I have argued, the current globalized world is one that puts a kinder face on imperialism, masking some real issues. While it is certainly a positive development that Belgium has started to recognize the footballing success of African footballers specifically, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if these players could represent Congo instead of Belgium. If African football is to develop—and an African team is to win a World Cup—the best players cannot be continually outsourced to Europe. Such policies serve to continually retard the growth of African football.

I hope that more clubs take a suggestion from the Turkish second division club Altinordu, whose motto is “A good person, a good citizen, a good footballer”. Founded in Izmir in 1923, Altinordu deliberately took a Turkish name (literally “Golden Horde”) so as to represent Turkish nationalism following the founding of the Turkish Republic in the same year. As the team’s motto shows, there is a real nationalist undercurrent that puts citizenship and individual character before being a footballer. Most importantly, the team’s policies are actually positive for Turkish football. The club will not sign non-Turkish players, and puts an emphasis on nurturing homegrown talent instead. The team narrowly missed promotion to the Turkish Super League last season with a roster whose average age was less than 23. The team’s chairman Mehmet Seyit Ozkan made headlines last year when he said “Even if [Argentine star Lionel] Messi wants to play for Altinordu for free, I would definitely reject him”. Mr. Ozkan underlined “I believe in our young Turkish players. I’m giving chances to them”. This kind of policy can only help Turkish football in the long run since one contributing factor in Turkish football’s recent decline has been the rising number of non-Turkish players; clubs have no incentive to develop home grown talent because a 2015 rule change allowed Turkish teams to field an XI made up entirely of foreign players. In 2016 the Turkish Super League was made up of 47.5 percent non-Turkish players; it is a similar situation to what is seen in the English Premier League (and we all know what year it was the last time England won a major football tournament (!).

Whether football fan or not, we should all be concerned about the negative effects of globalization and be prepared to discuss different perspectives. Even if it seems to be more humane, the current system is reminiscent of the bold faced imperialism and colonialism of the past, benefitting the global north at the expense of the global south. In order to encourage long term growth worldwide—both culturally and economically—it is prudent to recognize that globalization is far from an unequivocally positive trend.

As readers know, football in Turkey is a political sport. This politicization of sport is most often blatant in the naming (and re-naming) of football stadia, but recently it has become increasingly apparent in the re-naming of football clubs. In a bid to invent tradition in the Hobsbawmian sense, new football clubs have been “invented” in the last decade challenging the existing hegemony in Turkish football, represented by clubs whose history stretches back to the foundation of the Turkish Republic in 1923. The latest example is the case of Gaziantep Buyuksehir Belediyespor, the Gaziantep municipality’s club playing in the second tier, which as of 15 June 2017 has become Gazisehir Gaziantep Futbol Kulubu. That this should come at the same time that Gaziantep province’s most famous team, Gaziantepspor, was relegated from the Turkish Super League for the first time since 1990, should come as no surprise. After all, this is a challenge to the cultural (and sporting) hegemony of Gaziantepspor (I have written before about government efforts to take land from Gaziantepspor). That the new team’s badge should so resemble Gaziantepspor’s is no coincidence; it is part of the one dimensional thought I have written about that discourages new ideas is inherent in late stage capitalism. That the new team’s name—“Gazisehir Gaziantep”—should so closely resemble Istanbul’s Basaksehirspor is also no coincidence; both are invented traditions.

2017-2018 Champions League qualifiers (and last year’s runners up in the Turkish league) Istanbul Basaksehirspor represent the most blatant challenge to the existing cultural hegemony in football because the club came to prominence following the decline of Istanbulspor, a team formed in 1926 by students from Istanbul high school, which had been a first division stalwart for years. That it was run by Cem Uzan—a controversial businessman who once ran for political office—meant a run of success for the club before it was repossessed by the government after falling into financial ruin following the departure of the Uzan family. With Istanbul’s “fourth” team—after the “big three” of Besiktas, Fenerbahce, and Galatasaray—out of the picture, it was only logical that a challenge would be mounted; it manifested itself in the form of Istanbul Basaksehirspor, a team born out of the municipality’s Istanbul Buyuksehir Belediyespor which carries state backing in many forms.

This process was repeated in other cities with other teams. In Ankara it was Ankaragucu, a team formed in 1910, which fell into decline following the installation of Ankara mayor Melih Gokcek’s son as chairman. At that point Ankara Buyuksehir Belediyespor (again the municipality’s team) rose to prominence and became Ankaraspor; now it is known as Osmanlispor Futbol Kulubu (Ottoman Football Club), a thinly veiled piece of neo-Ottoman propaganda. Of course, as Ankaragucu has seen a resurgence (returning to the second tier for the upcoming 2017-2018 season), Justice and Development Party Mayor Melih Gokcek has pledged his support for Ankaragucu. Somethings, it seems, will never change, and politicians’ involvement in Turkish football is one of those things.